Abaddon's Hubris
by YourDepressedPenPal
Summary: He never wanted her to find out this way.


**The Fall**

_Abandon all hope, ye who enter here..._

_Inferno (Dante)_

Castle's halfway up the ramp in the parking garage when he hears it.

A gunshot, multiplying into dozens as it echoes through the empty space.

Ignoring his wiser self-preservation instincts, he runs toward the noise, the file that would change everything dropping to the ground. He had planned to champion the case in the face of his shadowy friend (if you could call him that, what with the thinly veiled threats to his and Kate's life) and scare him into telling him everything.

Even in the dim light he can see the flash of white hair.

Shit. Smith.

_Shit._

As he nears one thing is clear: there's blood everywhere. Pooling under his prone form, splattered on the wall, oozing from his chest. It stains Castle's slacks when he kneels next to him. From the new vantage point he can clearly see the bullet's entry- if you could call the shredded hole an entry. It's ripped through the center of his chest.

His heart.

God.

Flailing hands grasp the lapels of Castle's jacket as Smith chokes out some syllables. "Ckk..." Eyes rolling in their sockets, twitching fingers, spit and vomit (his or Smith's?) stain the floor.

"Shhh, don't talk. I'm going to call for help and you'll be fine," Castle pleads. Red gurgles around his hastily placed hands. So much of it. Too much. He watches it drip slowly out of Smith's mouth.

He's never imagined- never understood the gore and horror of this kind of wound. Familiar and yet so unlike that day in the cemetery. He can feel each pump of Smith's heart as he struggles to keep his hands from slipping.

"J... R...ckkkk..." Smith's fading, fast. Half-lidded eyes lock with Castle's fearful, wide ones. There's finality in the look- a dying desperation that makes Castle shake.

"I can't understand you," he moves a bloody hand to Smith's shoulder, "I'm sorry." Sorry for not being able to save him, sorry for not finding the truth, and sorry for _her_. Always for her.

A weak pull on his jacket brings his ear closer to the dying man's mouth. The smell of iron is so strong he can taste it in his mouth, and he struggles not to vomit again.

"Jayy... cckk.. rrr..kee." His mouth trembles with the broken letters. He pulls back and stares at Castle, eyes widening. Beseeching him to understand.

He doesn't.

Castle can feel Smith's heart slow. The thumps against his hand have longer spaces, and don't give as much resistance. Until there's none. A shuddering exhale, pupils dilating, and the light goes out.

There's a dull thud from his hands falling back to Earth and silence. Blood stops gushing and slowly oozes.

His eyes are still open. Dull. Flat. Once full of panic, now lifeless. Still staring at him, asking him to _just please understand._

Castle's scuttling away, clumsy limbs and slow thoughts. Deep crimson prints track his movement to the wall. He should call for help. An ambulance? The police?

Blindly clicking a contact, the phone is up to his ear before he's finished the thought.

Please don't let it be Alexis. Please don't let it be Alexis. Please don't let it be- "Beckett."

Of course. Was it ever going to be anyone else?

He can't even answer, can only manage a shuddering breath and a tearing sob. The one gift- the only gift- he would ever be able to give her is gone. Truth. Truth about her attempted killer and maybe even her mother's killer. He could have broken down that wall, and maybe have gotten her to love him too. Maybe.

The weight of his failure crushes him. A physical object pushing on his chest. His throat is closing. His lungs won't take in oxygen, and he feels lightheaded.

This must be what it's like to drown.

There's a nagging voice in the back of his head that tells him to just breathe. In and out. After what feels like hours of crying his breath evens out, sobs becoming whimpers and the voice focusing to his right ear.

"Breathe, Castle. Slowly," Kate coaches. Her voice wobbles slightly. "I need you to tell me where you are."

Come? Here?

"Yes, I need to know where." So he had let that slip. What else had he said?

"No," tumbles out. Having her see him and the bloody corpse of Mr. Smith would bring the whole thing crashing on his head. There's no way to lie his way out, and she's a damn good detective.

A sigh that fails to sound exasperated filters over the speaker. "Castle. I can always track your cell signal. This is a courtesy."

"Fine," he spits, staring at his slowly caking hands. He barks out the address and stands. The popping of his knees breaks the silence in the garage.

He's going to tell her, give her the courtesy of hearing it from him. Not secondhand during an interrogation or from the evidence's trail. He'll tell his own story.

And he'll be standing when he tells it, dammit.

"Don't move, Castle. I'll be there in five minutes. Okay?" She pushes. Always pulling him back to the present.

"Yeah, yeah, I got it." He hangs up, not really comprehending her words.

He kneels down to close Smith's eyes. "I'm sorry," he whispers, ignoring the light buzz from his pocket. He's asking forgiveness of a dead man. The

"I'm so, so sorry."

_"...I come into a region where is nothing that can give light."_

* * *

**If there is enough interest I will continue._  
_**


End file.
